


Lance

by Queenscene2



Series: Meet the Pilots [2]
Category: Voltron: Lion Force (1984)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Foster Care, Gang Violence, Gen, Harm to Children, Heroin, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Oh god, PROTEC HIM, Racism, Sorry guys, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, drug overdose, i love him so much, redemption arc, this is so freaking dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenscene2/pseuds/Queenscene2
Summary: This story portrays headcanons I have about Lance and his past.***Warnings***Drug overdose/AbuseViolence and bloodHints of RacismSexual themesStrong LanguageReferences to Child Abuse.Please read at your own risk. Thank you.
Series: Meet the Pilots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792624
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Lance

**Author's Note:**

> I See Fire by Ed Sheeran is a great companion song to this work.

_“Mira, mam_ _á!_ Look at me!” 4 year old Lance cried. Myra McClain chuckled at her son who had apparently snuck into their closet stole her husband’s cowboy boots and cowboy hat that he wore one year for Halloween. To say that they were too big on him was an understatement.

“You look so handsome, _mijo._ ” She said. She bent down to his size and kissed his forehead. Lance giggled. “I’m a sheriff! Pow! You’re dead!” he cried, pointing his plastic gun to her stomach. “You died because you stole Papa’s heart!” he declared.

Myra fell onto the floor dramatically. “Guilty. I am definitely guilty.” she said. She got up and kissed his head. “Well, this dead lady is going to go cook some dinner.” She said. “Go play, okay?”

Lance nodded as he headed out the backdoor where his older sister, Veronica, was sitting with their cat Milagro and was creating a crown out of dandelions.

The South Carolina sun shone bright and hot that day, as Lance pretended to shoot a very annoyed Veronica with his plastic gun.

“Lance! _Pérate_ , you little snot!” she cried. Her being annoyed at him only made him laugh and chase her more. Veronica was such the typical 9 year old, finding her little brother annoying, and starting to warm up to boys her own age. His father, Carlos, laughed his hearty laugh has he flipped another patty on the grill. “Relax, _mija._ He just wants to play with you.” He said.

“POW! You’re dead!” he cried out to her. Veronica smirked. “No. YOU are!” she cried. Lance squealed gleefully as she chased him around the backyard.

Yes, life was about picture perfect for the McClains.

…Until that fateful day.

~

“I bet you can’t do this!” Lance’s best friend, Joel said while doing a kick flip on his skateboard. 9 Year old Lance was trying his best to keep up but was having a hard time. There was this terrible feeling that he got in his stomach.

The sky and the clouds looked especially weird that day. The normal blue sky was now had a purplish-gray hue, and the clouds were transforming into a dark indigo color. _Probably just my imagination…_ Lance thought. Joel really didn’t seem to notice that the sky looked weird. Lance decided to ask him anyway

“Hey Joel?” Lance asked. “What? Afraid you can’t beat me home?” he taunted. “No! I j—” The Earth suddenly started to rumble. The wind significantly picked up as well, blowing the poor boys hair around. “Wh-What’s happening?!” Joel cried. He clung onto Lance. “I-Is it an Earthquake?!”

Lance looked up to see a humongous dark shadow loom over them. The sky at that point was pitch black, as if the sun was even afraid of this ominous figure descending down upon them. The sky then started to rain down with deadly lasers, bombs, hellfire, and the works.

“We gotta go! We gotta go home right now!” Lance screamed over the horrendous sounds of explosions and other’s screams. Lance grabbed Joel’s wrist, abandoning their backpacks and skateboards. _“Rapido, Rapido!”_ They ran as fast as they could, until Lance felt something slow him down.

There, behind him, was Joel, his very best friend, with a laser wound straight through his heart. Lance screamed as he witnessed the blood ooze out of what once was his best friend’s aorta, the life literally spilling out of him. The tears started to come down hot and fast as he booked it away from the area, leaving his best friend behind.

Lance ran as fast as his legs could carry him, screaming and crying until his throat burned. Behind him were screams and cries of people who were carrying their dying loved ones in their arms, watching and grieving as their lives ended by this cruel and despicable crime against humanity.

Lance turned right to run down his street. He just _had_ to get home.

Unfortunately, there _wouldn’t_ be a home to get to.

Lance stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the sight before him. His hut like home was now burning bright, with no sign of life inside. All he could see was dark crimson covering the sides of what used to be the walls of his home.

 _“Mama! Papa!_ Veronica!” he cried as loud as he could, yet there was no answer…and now, there would never _be_ an answer. The day’s tragic events were too much for the sweet 9 year old boy’s innocent mind, and through the chaos of it all, he found himself slipping into unconsciousness.

~

Lance woke up at a hospital with a woman that he had never seen before. “Oh, you’re awake.” She said, slightly surprised. Lance tried to say something, but his throat felt as if it had 3rd degree burns. “Don’t try to talk, sweetie. You’re still suffering from smoke inhalation.” 

For a second, Lance looked around for his mom and dad. Reality then hit him like a ton of bricks. He started to cry, yet he couldn’t produce any sound. The woman looked alarmed. “Oh, dear. Please don’t cry. You’ll damage your vocal chords more.” She said.

“Vocal…chords?” Lance managed to whisper out. “Yes. Looks like you have suffered mild permanent damage to them due to overuse and smoke inhalation.” She explained. “Who…are you?” he asked, looking at her up and down.

“My name is Ms. Wells. I work for Child Protective Services.” She said. “I understand that you lost your family in the mysterious bombing in a town called Wellington, am I correct?” Lance nodded, he tried to hold back as many tears as he could.

Ms. Wells pulled out a notebook. “Alright. Well, I’m going to explain what’s going to happen to you, ok?” Lance nodded again. “Okay. I’m going to take you and we are going to go find you a foster family that you can live with, okay?” she smiled.

 _Foster family? I want my family!_ Lance wanted to shout, but he only nodded in return. “Good. Now, the firefighters actually found something salvageable in the rubble. Would you like it?” she asked. Lance nodded. _Anything_ that reminded him of his family.

Ms. Wells pulled out a plastic bag with Carlos McClain’s old brown leather jacket. Lance’s eyes filled with tears, as he grabbed the bag out of the woman’s hands and put the jacket on. He sniffed it. It still smelled like his dad’s cologne. He started to cry again.

~

Since that day, Lance was in and out of foster homes. The first family would hit him. Hard. They were raging alcoholics. “Fuck you.” 11 year old Lance had said to them as he walked out of their house with just the clothes on his back.

The second was just as bad. “Lance, in this house you are _only_ to speak English. Spanish is such a low class language!” The bitch Mrs. Normand said to him. Lance was hurt. Racism was a huge thing in his part of South Carolina, but he never knew it would ever affect him.

The last straw was when she threw Lance’s jacket in the garbage can, saying that it was “worse than trash.” “Fuck you.” 12 year old Lance had said to them as he walked out of their house with just the clothes on his back.

The 3rd foster family wasn’t even at home. They were always too busy partying and gambling to really care about Lance, and that’s when he kept himself busy on the streets. He was fine with it since they didn’t hit him or anything.

14 year old Lance had made a habit of hanging around the local convenience store, begging people for money. The people normally took pity on the poor boy and threw a couple of dollars his way. Eventually, he was able to buy a guitar and play and sing in the streets.

Some patrons of the establishment, however, complained to the manager, and he was told to stay far away from the store, or else he would press charges. _Hey. It beats staying at the Gershwin’s._ He had thought to himself.

At 15, while playing the guitar in the streets, he met a guy his age named Adrian. They got to know each other, and then eventually realized that they attended the same high school. Of course, Adrian never did anything to help Lance’s development into a distinguished young man, but instead the two would sneak out back, skipping class to smoke.

“Try it.” Adrian said to him, holding out a cigarette. “It will make you feel better.” Lance accepted it and put it in his mouth. “Shit. You’re right.” He said. He coughed, as his lungs were not used to the tobacco. Adrian laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

Instead of going “home” Lance would follow Adrian to an abandoned apartment building in the downtown area. Lance soon grew to realize that Adrian and his friends were just part of a gang, a dangerous one at that. They taught him street fighting, how to have sex with women, and how to roll a joint.

The gang would get arrested for all sorts of misdemeanors. Vandalism, Assault and Battery, Theft, Public sex, the list went on. Lance, as being roped in by association, found himself spending his nights in jail cells.

He didn’t care. Jail was more of a home than anywhere else was.

But Heroin is what kept these boys occupied, and plenty of it. Lance never partook in the vice. It just didn’t sit right with him. “I’m not fucking putting that in my body.” He stated harshly one day. “Pussy.” Adrian spat as he injected another dose into his arm. The boys laughed at him as Lance angrily put another cigarette in his mouth.

One day, however, it was Lance who would be laughing at them…or he would if he weren’t traumatized by what he saw.

“Fuck! It’s Jack!” one of the gang members yelled. The boys gathered around Jack, who was turning bluer and bluer by the second. He was gasping for air and was convulsing. Lance put a hand over his mouth and turned away, trying so hard not to cry as that monster Heroin consumed his fellow man.

“I told him not to take too much…” he heard Adrian say.

The cops quickly came when a woman witnessed the entire thing and called 911. They arrested everyone on the spot, including Lance.

This time, there were more serious charges and he found himself heading to Juvie. Lance didn’t care though, he was happy to have a roof over his head, since his foster family had kicked him out for “staying up too late.”

~

After a year, Lance was released. Now 16, he had to find himself an income. He continued to play on the streets, walking around and playing at different places. Eventually, he had enough money to rent out a hotel room. A shitty one, yes, but at least it kept himself safe from the elements.

The gang had cut ties with Lance, claiming that he was the one who ratted them out. After vehemently denying such claims, Lance just decided to leave the toxic place altogether.

As a coping mechanism, Lance turned to sex, and boy was he good at it. Girls all over school and the town would come over to take part and indulge in his famous one night stands, and he would even pay prostitutes to come and satisfy him.

Whatever would take away his pain.

One day, when he was 17, he was lying in bed with a girl maybe a few years older than him when he suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of sadness. The girl (Lance didn’t even care to learn her name) felt up his fit, bare chest and rubbed her body up against his, trying to get a reaction. “Wanna go for round 2?” she asked. She started nibbling his ear.

Lance pushed her off of him and put on his boxers. “Nah.” He said. He grabbed a cigarette from the nightstand and lit it. She sat up. “Excuse me?” she said. “I said…Nah.” He said. “Now get the fuck out.” The girl scoffed. “No one says no to Myra!” She huffed.

 _Myra._ Lance’s eyes suddenly filled with tears as he came to a shocking realization. He turned away from the girl. “I said get out.” He said, his voice breaking slightly. The girl didn’t answer, for she was already putting her clothes on and headed out the door.

Lance sat on the edge of his messy bed and rubbed his face in his hands. _Myra._ His mom. His sweet mom. The woman who would feed him good food and give him kisses on his head.

_“Remember, Lancito, I will always love you. If something ever happens to me, please promise that you will be a good boy.”_

Her words echoed in his head that night, over and over and over, until Lance had reached his breaking point. He wailed. He wailed like a baby. He wailed as he finally allowed himself to grieve the loss of his family. He wailed as he finally acknowledged the pain. He realized that all of the sex and the cigarettes were just bandages for what he was hiding away. Like a wound that was festering, so was Lance’s pain.

He woke up the next morning and realized that he had to change his life around. He _had_ to. He whimpered at the thought of his mom crying at the things that he had done. He was determined to redeem himself.

~

He walked up the steps to Ms. Wells’ office, the woman who had helped him stay alive. He rapped on the door. “Come in!” she called out. Lance walked in bashfully. “Ms. Wells?” he said sheepishly. Ms. Wells sighed. “What happened now, Lance?” she asked. There was a pang of sadness in her voice.

Lance shrugged. “Mr. Gershwin kicked me out for no reason. Whatever. He and his wife were too busy partying and gambling to take care of me anyway. So, I made money on the streets with my guitar…and now I have a place to live.” He intentionally left out the part about him going to Juvie and joining a gang.

Ms. Wells sighed. She mumbled something like “we need new legislation for background checks for foster families.” She smiled up at him. “You do? Good for you, Lance. I’m proud of you.”

Lance smiled. For the first time, he actually felt good about himself. “Thanks.”

“Have you been active in your studies?” she asked.

Lance’s smile disappeared. He hadn’t attended school in 2 years, since he flunked out of 10th grade. He gulped, afraid to disappoint Ms. Wells even more. “I…failed out.” He said. Ms. Wells’ lips thinned out. “Ah, that’s disappointing. You know, you’re very smart. I was hoping that you would succeed.”

“But that was my past. I’m here in front of you today to start over.” He said. He seemed confident on the outside, but he felt like jelly on the inside. Ms. Wells’ smile returned. “What a brave thing to confess, Lance. I am more than happy to help. Come sit.”

Lance sat on the wooden chair in front of her desk. “I’m not sure where to begin.” He said. “I didn’t finish high school, so no one will really hire me.” Ms. Wells shook her head. “No, Lance. You _can_ finish. There’s a GED acceleration class that I can put you in and you’ll be all set, alright?”

Her face became grave. “Now, you have to promise me that you have to finish it and do your best. Promise?” Lance grinned. He was more determined than ever now. For the first time in a while, his future looked bright. “I promise!”

And promise he did. Lance obtained his GED, and Ms. Wells couldn’t be any prouder of him. “ _Mira,_ _Mamá_. _Lo hice!_ I did it! I hope you and Papa and Veronica are proud of me.” He said showing his diploma to the sky at graduation day.

He was interrupted however, by a man’s voice. “Excuse me, son.” He said. Lance turned around and saw a big burly man stand right in front of him. Lance concluded that he was part of the military, by how he stood. He stuck out his hand.

“My name is General Beetfoot. I’m a recruiting general for the Galaxy Garrison...”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Hopefully I touched on these heavy topics in a respectful way.
> 
> This is probably the darkest fic in this series. The rest will be more light hearted from now on.
> 
> I really love Lance as a character. There are a lot of sad and dark undertones that you feel when you watch him in Defender of the Universe, and I hope that this fic did him justice.
> 
> Thanks for reading
> 
> Love,
> 
> Queenscene2


End file.
